


Devils & Dust

by ishafel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishafel/pseuds/ishafel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I look into your eyes/ there's just devils and dust</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devils & Dust

"He's a difficult child," Malfoy says, " and his mother has spoiled him abominably. I should like him to go to Durmstrang—but the Blacks, I am told, have gone to Hogwarts for time immemorial. And what is the boy's education next to that? Still, I think you will find him clever, if lacking in discipline."

Snape does not say that in his admittedly limited experience, nine-year olds--particularly previously untutored nine-year olds--generally lack both cleverness and discipline. He is well aware that he is doing this favor not for Malfoy but for the boy. Children do not need redemption, but children grow up, and fall. It is dark business the boy's parents will be about this summer; if the boy can be kept out of it he may have a chance. If he has not been ruined already.

"Draco, this is Professor Snape," Narcissa says. "He's going to look after you this summer, while Daddy and I are away." The boy looks Snape over with empty gray eyes, uninterested. He is small for his age, very fair, very like both his mother and father—who after all are cousins. 

When the Malfoys have gone Snape looks for the boy and cannot find him. It is an inauspicious start to the summer. He sets the house elves to the task and retires to the library. More than half the books he finds are ancient, rare, and very dark indeed; it is a collection he both envies and fears. He runs his fingers down the crumbling leather spines and closes his eyes, imagining for a moment that it is he who is master here; that these words are his to learn—or burn.

When he opens his eyes Draco is standing before him staring, for all the world like a boy at the zoo. Snape brushes lightly, tentatively, over his mind, wondering what he is thinking. His mind is like his father's, quick but unorganized. The boy is hungry. Lonely. Uncertain. He has heard things about Snape—flash of white skin, dark robes, pain, no, he will not think of his father so. And, under that, curiosity. There are things Snape could do to him, that Draco might enjoy. 

Despite himself, Snape grows hard. Despite himself, and despite all legality, morality, decency, he wants the boy. But this is no ordinary child, is it? This is Lucius Malfoy's son and heir, a boy brought up alone, unnaturally so. A boy whose father has an unsavory reputation, and not only where Muggle children are concerned. Who knows what sort of dark games Malfoy's son has learned to play, what sort of terrible traditions he is an initiate of? The mind beneath Snape's is not wholly an innocent's. 

He wants to take the boy. And why not? Clearly he will not be the first. A part of Snape shudders at this; a part of him knows there can be no justification. But the boy's wrist is narrow, delicate, and Snape's fingers close easily around it. The moment he crosses the line in his mind, there is no going back. There is no fear in the boy's mind, only anticipation. Snape likes that. 

He could break the boy's wrist this way, if he isn't careful. He likes that, too. He can feel the boy's pulse fluttering under his fingers as he closes in. It has been a long time since he hunted such delicate prey; this was Malfoy's game and they gave it up after the war. There are things he could teach this child that even Malfoy has not stomach enough for.

Children were fragile, was the problem. They reacted unpredictably to magic, particularly to Unforgivable Curses. Malfoy had never really developed the precision necessary. Whatever he had done with the boy, and Snape was sure he had done something: it had almost certainly been limited to sex. His mind is untouched. Snape could destroy him so thoroughly there would be nothing left to resurrect. He has gone, in the space of a moment, from the boy's savior to a predator.

He does not stop to think what he is doing or why, only pushes the boy facedown on the rug. Draco doesn't protest, but Snape can almost hear him thinking. He isn't panicking, not quite, but that's more a tribute to his father's training than Snape's handling. Snape likes his stillness because it makes him think of frightened animals, Muggle children with huge dark eyes and bleeding mouths. Makes him think of himself and Malfoy, younger than this boy, being given as pets to a half-blood tyrant. They had not panicked; it had not preserved them either.

The boy beneath him is Lucius Malfoy's son; debauchery is Malfoy's heritage. That clever mind is devoted, already, to its own interests. Those icy eyes will never show pity, empathy, or gentleness. You cannot redeem a child; children are without sin. You cannot save such a child as this. You can only use it.

And the boy—the boy wants to be used, the way a weapon wants to be used. The boy knows his purpose. The boy is still curious, under the fear. Snape does not waste time or tenderness or magic on him. Snape's weight is enough to hold him, and his clothes tear like paper, under Snape's strong fingers. The boy does not struggle, though his body is tense and stiff. 

Snape has no more kindness in him than Tom Riddle did, but a part of him is appalled at what he is doing. A child, who will be one of his students; everyone else he has had this way was Muggleborn, no more capable of thought than an animal. This boy knows what he is doing, and in time will make him pay. This boy is a Malfoy, and Malfoys always turn on their betters. 

This, this one sin, is something no one will forgive. Both Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore will kill him for it. But the boy is a delectable morsel; he might even be worth dying for. Snape could have him, and Obliviate him—but Memory Charms are not always effective on children, and sometimes they are too effective. He could use Imperius, but the Ministry would be alerted almost immediately.

If Snape wants the boy he will just have to take him the old-fashioned way. The boy is already barebacked; Snape can see the gleam of white skin beneath torn cloth, the awkward jut of the bones of the spine. How easy it would be to unlace his trousers with his free hand, easier still with a charm. The boy will have bruises on his wrist already, and what are a few more? Snape can leave bite marks on the back of the boy's neck, or ring his collar with them.

Can penetrate the boy with a finger, first, use a lubrication spell if necessary. There is a potion that would be perfect for this, if only he'd thought to prepare it in advance. He is not a small man, but he is not so large that he would do the boy permanent damage, either. He could push his way into the boy, an inch at a time, and know that even if the boy screams the House Elves won't answer. 

The boy would be tight; there is no question of that. Whatever Malfoy has done with him—Snape concentrates, the boy is thinking of pale hands and long pale hair and burning pain—it can not have been enough, often enough, to prepare him. Narcissa Black is as protective as a wolf with a single cub; she knows her husband's history well enough to keep him away from their son when she can. The boy would be tight, the boy would bleed, the boy might scream, or worse—might cry. Snape had cried; Malfoy had not. 

It would take only a few thrusts, and then it would be over. Snape cannot imagine lasting long. And then he would mop the boy up, make him promise not to tell, and then spend the rest of the summer avoiding him. Snape's soul is so black another sin like this can make little difference. The boy is a victim and no blame will adhere to him. Only, Snape knows that victims have a way of turning vicious. Kicked dogs often have the worst bite. He cannot save this boy but he can damn him.

He rolls away. The boy stays where he is. "Go and get changed," Snape says, and the boy scrambles up and goes without a word. He's not a fool, whatever else he might, whatever he might become.


End file.
